


How the Yarn Found a Match: a Malec Soulmates Tale

by yellow_craion



Series: Soulmates Yarn [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parenting, Bigotry & Prejudice, Character Development, Coming Out, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantastic Racism, Gay Alec Lightwood, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland is a Herondale, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Multi, Mundane Simon Lewis, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Politics, Protective Magnus Bane, Red String of Fate, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Supportive Magnus Bane, magnus drinks tea, unlearning bigotry is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_craion/pseuds/yellow_craion
Summary: When an hour later, on the dot, there’s someone at his door, Magnus isn’t sure what he’s expecting on the other side, but it definitely isn’t a Shadowhunter holding a bouquet of burgundy roses.“Hi,” Alexander smiles and offers the flowers to the warlock. “These are for you.”He starts at the gesture but quickly recovers, thinking how the young Lightwood certainly doesn’t waste time. “Hi, yourself,” he lifts the flowers up to smell them, keeping an eye on his guest. “Thank you, they’re lovely. Come in.”





	How the Yarn Found a Match: a Malec Soulmates Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my beta lewispanda for all her help, support and cheering me on - wouldn't have done it without you~! <3
> 
> There's a cameo at the end but I won't spoil the surprise xD

Magnus looks into his apothecary from the open doorway. He doesn't feel like cleaning it anymore. This particular mess will have to wait. He's drained, mentally more so than magically, by what he's seen at the Hotel and keeps thinking about his hurt boy and his distressed soulmate as he's pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Chairman bumps into his leg in a sleepy greeting and he smiles down at the cat.

"Hello," he walks to the sofa, carefully stepping around the cat, and drops down heavily. "Had an eventful night, you know?" He scratches behind the cat's ear and soaks in all the affection coming from his pet as he proceeds to snuggle up to Magnus.

The silence helps him calm down.

Slowly, he comes to terms with the idea of going to the Institute.

This is a risky move for many reasons. He is a Downworlder and the usual protocol says nothing about his kind demanding anything from the Shadowhunters.

The situation is even more complicated now, because of personnel changes at the top and he's not even certain if those has been finalized yet; not that Shadowhunters put much effort into keeping Downworlders in the loop. That's why he only knows from rumors that the newly appointed Head comes from a Lightwood family - one of the more uptight and rule abiding of them, and considering all Shadowhunters are uptight and rule abiding, this new leadership doesn't fill Magnus with much optimism.

He only hopes he's able to protect the warlocks from whatever backlash this is going to cause. Because there's no doubt in his mind there will be hell to pay for the stunt he's pulling.

Still, he'd do anything to protect his Raphael.

He just needs a couple hours of rest first.

 

 

\--

  


Chairman wakes him from a restless sleep with a series of pats on his hand.

Magnus looks up lazily. He pats his cat back gently, then with a jolt, sits up wide awake and utterly perplexed. Wrapped snugly around his wrist there is a red string, barely long enough so a little bit is dangling off its knot, but still firmly there, where it hasn't been before.

He has questions.

Why now? Who is his soulmate? Is it a Downworlder? Human? Why now? The string doesn’t lead anywhere yet so it’s early – clearly so, since the string wasn’t even there when Magnus went to bed – so WHY NOW?

All these questions can wait. Have to wait.

He has a plan of action for the day and he will not be distracted by some…

With a short few movements he glamours the thing away so he doesn’t have to look at it and be reminded of… things he doesn’t want to be reminded of.

It lasts all of five seconds before the string is visible again.

He clenches his jaw in frustration, flips the covers away and gets out of bed quickly, doing his damn best to think of an appropriate outfit instead of anything else.

 

 

\--

  


The moment Magnus steps out of his portal, Shadowhunters surround him, their weapons raised and ready. He glares at each one in turn, seething at the thought that any of them could just waltz into a Downworlder's home and attack them.

"I demand an audience with the Head of this Institute," he announces in a booming voice.

One Shadowhunter puts away his blade, only to address the small crowd gathering around them.

"Look at the hot shot warlock, everybody! Send a fire message and wait for decision like a good Downworlder," he comes up close, and scowls at him. "Wouldn't hold my breath with that attitude though."

Magnus' jaw clenches but he doesn't respond. Out the corner of his eye, he sees movement further inside, people stepping away and a figure coming closer.

"What is going on here?!" The young man demands loudly.

"We have an intruder, sir," one of the Shadowhunters speaks up. "The warlock thinks he can come in and just demand to see you whenever he pleases."

Ah, so this is the new Head of the Institute. Magnus looks him up and down discreetly. Young for the position, which means he's likely ambitious.

Not a bad trait necessarily, but any trait could be dangerous in a Shadowhunter.

"Is that true? Are you here to see me?" The Shadowhunter in charge asks, and Magnus feels strange when their eyes meet. He confirms and watches with hidden amusement how the new Head stares down the Shadowhunter before him and asks:

"Well? What are you doing? Let him pass!"

Shadowhunters scramble away from Magnus and he allows himself to hope. Maybe this new leadership isn't going to be that bad?

"Let's talk in my office," the Head says and walks away, not waiting for Magnus to respond, so he goes after him, if a bit confused.

Magnus has been at the Institute enough times to know he's being lead to the main office of the Head of the Institute. Once the door is closed behind them and they are alone, Magnus is surprised by the man in front of him once more, when he extends a hand in greeting.

"I apologize for the welcome you got. I don't think we've been properly introduced. Alec Lightwood, Head of the New York Institute, I've only arrived here this morning," his lips quirk up in a smile; a rare thing on any Shadowhunter.

"Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn," he shakes the man's hand, when the strangest thing happens.

The red string around his wrist grows longer right before it connects with another one, the one wrapped around the Lightwood's wrist.

They both stare at their joined hands in silence.

"Oh fuck!"

And with that barely audible curse, Magnus' shock morphs into hurt. Because of course the Head of the Shadowhunters would not be pleased with a Downworlder soulmate.

Not that he’s happy with the situation himself. He blinks away angry tears that threaten to blurry his vision. Alec. Why does it have to be a damn Shadowhunter named Alec Lightwood!

He steps back, snatching his hand away and just barely holding in his scowl.

He doesn’t have time for this but the Universe has a perverse sense of humor.

"No, I didn't," Lightwood blinks at him. He moves to reach for Magnus but stops himself midway. "I'm not, I mean, I didn't…" He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

Magnus watches silently as the man collects himself.

"I'm only surprised. Up until a few hours ago I didn’t know I even had a soulmate and then I expected it to take longer,” the words shoot out his mouth at a surprising speed. “I’m so very gay to meet you!”

Only a moment later does he seem to realize what he said and groans.

Almost adorably, Magnus thinks, and that thought itself surprises him most of all.

“Happy. I am happy. To meet you,” another deep and slow breath in, and the Shadowhunters looks him in the eye. “First meeting with my soulmate and I’m already messing it all up to hell. I’m sorry,” he winces.

Magnus chuckles before he can stop himself.

This is bad, so very, very bad.

 

 

\--

  


This is going horribly so far, Alec thinks.

The first impression he’s making on his soulmate – a gorgeous powerful warlock that he is, and Alec knows, he’s done his research before coming to New York – is that of a complete fool!

He has to do better!

"Anyway," Alec shows Magnus to a chair by his desk and takes the other one himself, next to the warlock, instead of his actual chair on the other side of the desk. "You came here with some urgency. What can I do for you?"

This is something he can deal with right now. This is official visit, something for him to do. Clearly they both are too surprised for anything more private, and so he waits for Magnus to take a seat and state his business.

"I'm here on behalf of Raphael Santiago, the Leader of New York's vampire Clan," Magnus says with a stone face.

Good, this is good. Once that’s handled maybe he could get the warlock to trust him and open up a bit.

Alec smiles gently. "Oh? Why isn't he here himself?"

"He's recovering after he's been assaulted at Hotel Du Mort by a Shadowhunter."

All the helpful tips from his parents are floating to the front of his mind, decidedly unhelpful in how loud they are. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show frustration, or annoyance. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t let them see they got to you. Don’t…

He smothers down a groan that almost escapes him and looks away to think. "I’m sorry. Do you know who did it?"

"Jace Herondale."

Alec realizes then and there, that the Angel hates him. He closes his eyes with a huff.

Still, he nods. “I will deal with it.”

At that, Magnus shifts back in his chair and his lips part just slightly and, by the Angel, isn’t he the most stunning man Alec has ever seen.

“I will take care of it,” he says, willing the warlock to believe him. "You can trust me.”

Magnus stares down at his wrist, their shared string now visible to both of them, and lets out a sigh.

“I hope so.”

 

 

\--

  


The portal can’t close behind him fast enough. Magnus is back home but everything is still wrong. He takes a quick look around to make sure Chairman is not in the room with him. Everything is wrong, and he’s drowning in resentment and anger, but still wouldn’t want to scare him.

The cat is nowhere to be seen.

Magnus lets out a breath and promptly sets the sofa on fire.

When it doesn’t give him the satisfaction he hoped for, he blows the bar – an antique cabinet that holds all his liqueur – up all over the room.

With shuddering breaths he falls down onto his knees, the carpet not doing anything to lessen the landing. He wraps his arms around himself, his own sobs too loud to his ears, and leans forward, tears streaming down his nose onto the floor.

Alec.

The name of his soulmate.

The man that died less than couple years ago.

He’s gone four hundred damn years without a soulmate and now he gets a new one when he is still grieving over the first one.

And they share a name.

The carpet scratches his forehead and his head is pounding. He’s still shuddering but his face is burning, like the furniture behind him.

It’s hard to breathe now.

Alec.

He wants him here!

His Alec!

Around him. Holding him. Like he should be.

Not buried six feet under in a place only Magnus visits.

He lets out a whine and continues crying, like his sofa continues burning.

 

 

\--

  


Alec is sorting through the reports, when there's a knock at the door of his office. His office. Hasn't been here more than a day yet.

He takes a breath to steady himself. He’s been expecting Herondale to come in after a late assignment, having plenty of time for his over-active brain to come up with all the bad case scenarios. He’s known he’d have to deal with him and similar people, of course – with being the one in charge, there’s no going around that. And the reform ideas he wants to implement are not going to win him any fans either. He just hoped he’d have some time to establish himself as a leader before going against the grandson of the Inquisitor.

Making enemies on his first day is exactly the opposite of what his mother told him to do.

And yet. Magnus showing up has shifted Alec’s priorities somewhat. He has to do it quick, has to prove himself to his soulmate if he hopes to have any kind of relationship with him.

He just hopes the warlock is easier to satisfy than his mother.

Maybe later, when he’ll be starting the Cabinet meetings with all the Downworlders leaders to show them how to improve their communities, he can have his soulmate, the High Warlock, pass on a good word on his behalf.

"Come in," he answers and indeed, the blond Shadowhunter steps in.

"You asked to see me, sir?" The Herondale golden boy stands in front of Alec's desk in the customary at rest position with hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, thank you. Was the mission successful?" He would be surprised if it wasn't but still, he asks. Partly because, as naïve as it seems, he hopes the niceties will show Jace that he's not the enemy here. Just his boss.

The way this day's been going, it's probably exactly what's not about to happen.

"Killed the shape shifter, so yeah, I'd say," he smirks. "I'll get you the paperwork tomorrow."

"That's alright. I understand you must be tired so I'll get to the point. I wanted to discuss the recent incident at Hotel Du Mort and related rumors about you and the Downworlders."

Herondale laughs at that. "You heard about me in Idris? Damn," he shrugs. “Yeah, the, uh I guess it was an incident huh? The vamp was grooming a mundane. I taught him a lesson.”

“Grooming?!” How did the warlock not mention any of that? “Do you have proof?”

“Other than the mundane in the vampire nest? What else could that mean, right?”

Alec hums thoughtfully. He will have to keep that in mind and investigate.

"I will look into that. You confirm you went to Hotel Du Mort yesterday and tortured the Clan Leader, then?" Alec checks. He’s watching Herondale carefully.

"Tortured? Nah,” Jace is looking genuinely confused. "I just like to rough them up. You know, keep them in their place. Unless people talk something else about me in Idris than here, and I would know, grandma would, I mean, the Great Inquisitor, she'd tell me… "

He can’t shake the strangeness of having to discipline one of his underlings, when he’s never done that. Not really. Not like this. So he’s taking care to be firm and hopes for the best. Having a reminder of Herondale’s position thrown in his face doesn’t help him, but he went over the words in his head a hundred times before. He can do it.

"As the new Head of this Institute I want this type of behavior to stop. There's no need for excessive violence or unprovoked attacks. No patrols until further notice. Am I being clear?"

"This is a joke?" Herondale laughs, throwing Alec off. "You're a Lightwood! This is your big idea for government? Being soft? At this rate we're gonna be overrun by the roaches in no time!" He throws his hands up in exasperation and Alec shoots up from his chair behind the desk, slamming his hands onto the flat surface.

"Watch your language. I do not explain myself to you. I gave you an order and I expect you to follow it," it’s a struggle to keep his voice steady, but he fights through it.

"Yeah," he nods, "I get it, sir. You’ve never been out there in the field and you got soft riding that desk for one whole day, thinking you’re the big boss and you know shit!”

Alec flinches. Angels help him, he flinches and he sees the spark in Herondale’s eye. He glares at the other man.

“Kitchen duty. For a week. No missions, no going outside. Now leave.”

“We’ll see what the Great Inquisitor will say about that, Lightwood!”

The door shuts with a bang and Alec feels his hands shake. He gasps a breath out and drops into his chair, resigned.

He sucks a slow breath in, fumbling with the red string around his wrist. It offers no guidance, just a reminder that there’s someone out there ...who may not be interested in him after he loses his position as the Head.

 

 

\--

  


The very next day, Magnus gets a call from his favorite vampire.

"I don't know what you did, but I just got a fire message from the new Institute Head, the Lightwood guy."

He bolts upright, “What does it say?"

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, long enough for Magnus to conclude he’s made a big mistake going to the Institute earlier.

“He’s coming to the Hotel and asks for confirmation I’ll be here. All dressed up in fake niceties and crap, so that’s new, I guess...”

“When?”

“In a few hours,” Raphael sighs loudly. “Magnus? Did you go see him?”

“...I did,” he admits. “I… I’m sorry.”

“I know you, you were trying to help,” Raphael reassures in a soft voice. “So what exactly am I in for?”

And Magnus tells him all he can think of, from what they talked about to any random observations he’s made about the Lightwood.

One thing he doesn’t mention however, is that they’re soulmates.

 

 

\--

  


Simon is walking in circles outside Magnus’ apartment building.

He should have called first.

Showing up like that is rude. He should just go home and walk a hole in his own bedroom, not somebody else’s living room.

Raphael told him to get away before the Shadowhunters show up and so Simon has left. He feels bad about that, then he laughs at himself. What good was he the last time a Shadowhunter came to the Hotel? Raphael was right to kick him out.

Well, no. Not kick out, Simon chastises himself. They are still together and while Raphael was firm, he’s also always kind and gentle with Simon.

He trusts Raphael.

He keeps almost bumping into people that walk past the building, while he’s making his small, quick circles. Simon pauses at a sudden loud crackle from the intercom, and jumps at the booming voice yelling at him:

“Simon Lewis!, I can HEAR you worrying down there!”

Is that… Magnus?

“Get your butt up here!”

Simon has no time to wonder anymore, he rushes to open the door when he hears the tell tale buzzing and runs in to find the elevator.

“You could actually hear me worrying?” Simon asks, eyes wide like little saucers once he sees the warlock at the door.

“What? No,” he scoffs. “Figure of speech, I’m not telepathic, relax,” he waves his hand dismissively at first, smoothly turning the movement into an invitation inside. “Come in.”

“I have protective wards set up around my place, against any unwanted visitors. You know how that is,” as the warlock explains, Simon is looking around curiously, nodding distractedly while his focus is already away.

So much stuff!

Half of it probably magical or enchanted or… something, Simon thinks, and quickly clasps his hands behind his back. Just to be safe.

“You kept bumping into them then backing away, back and forth. That’s how I actually knew.”

The air smells of woody incense, and before he can think about it, the question is out of his mouth. “Pine?”

“The… what?” Magnus blinks at him.

“I, uh, sorry. I mean the smell? You’re burning incense, yeah?”

Magnus nods. “Juniper, actually,” he smiles and lets Simon wander around his space.

“Raphael is expecting an official Shadowhunter visit, so I figured I’d come see you,” he offers as an explanation, trying to start a conversation. This is the first time he’s alone with the warlock and it’s awkward. His mind is buzzing with all the questions he wants to ask but isn’t sure how, or where to start. Then he turns sharply to look at Magnus, suddenly worried. “Am I bothering you?”

“No,” he answers easily. “I know about the visit. Now we can worry about him together.”

“Yeah,” Simon lets out a weak laugh.

Magnus gestures towards a wheeled round table full of bottles. “Drink?”

“Uh,” he shakes his head. “Do you have anything non alcoholic?”

“Of course!”

 

 

\--

  


They are sitting on the balcony, enjoying the view and drinking jasmine tea.

Simon’s never had jasmine tea before but he likes it well enough. The smell and taste are something different, and that novelty helps him relax. It’s something else he can focus, other than Raphael being in a room with a Shadowhunter.

“Is there anything...” he starts but cuts himself off abruptly. So much for calming down.

“What is it?” Magnus prompts with a smile. “You can ask, Simon. I’m sure Raphael would be happy to answer any questions you have. I imagine you already talked about a lot of things, but if there’’s something… some reason you don’t want to go to him, I’m here.”

Simon shakes his head with a grin. “You sure you’re not a mind reader?”

The warlock snorts.

“I am very old, you know,” he says with a wink.

Simon hums in response, distracted by a sudden idea of introducing bubbie Helen to Magnus.

“Should I be worried about my family? That Shadowhunter guy said he’d, uh,” he gulps and looks away. “About holding me in for observation? Can he do that?”

The warlock looks down between them with a sad expression, which doesn’t help Simon feel any better.

“Technically,” he says, tilting the cup in his palm this way and that, watching the tea float up and down, as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “Shadowhunter’s main duty is protecting mundanes, or as you’re used to saying, humans, from Downworlders. Such as myself or Raphael.”

“That’s not even close to what it felt like to me,” Simon mutters and Magnus nods enthusiastically.

“I won’t go into history lesson now, you’re worried enough as it is for him, but for now: as a mundane, not a Downworlder, you are the safest from all of the… issues. And I imagine Raphael must be thankful for that...”

He’s interrupted by a call.

Simon hopes it’s his soulmate, and with good news, but can’t really help getting tense.

Then he sees sparks fly off Magnus’ hands.

“It’s ok,” the warlock says when he notices the look on Simon’s face.

The portal is barely big enough when Simon jumps through, too preoccupied with Raphael and what he may see on the other side to actually pay attention that he is in fact traveling via a magical portal for the very first time.

He can fanboy later.

First he has to make sure his vampire is alright.

The Hotel lobby is packed with vampires. The murmur of voices quiets down slowly as tension fades and some start to leave, in groups – heading out or up into their rooms. All that is background noise to Simon who’s looking for the clan leader.

“Simon.”

He turns to the familiar voice and beams at Raphael, dressed up in his finest three piece suit for the occasion, and most importantly - seemingly unhurt.

He runs up the few steps to the vampire, hands clutching his arms through the soft material of his black jacket. “You’re ok?”

Raphael breathes out a soft ‘yeah’ and smiles back with a nod to Magnus, who’s been behind Simon the whole time.

“It’s all good,” he confirms. “We can talk upstairs.”

They head to his suite, Simon glued to Raphael’s side in a sort of twisted hug; one of his hands around the vampire waist under the jacket and the other clutching his front, while Raphael puts his arm around him; Magnus following not far behind with a fond grin.

 

\--

  


Alec barely enters the Institute after his trip to Hotel Du Mort, when he’s accosted by his sister.

“What did you do, brother?!” Izzy whispers harshly as soon as she’s next to him, so that nobody can hear the accusatory tone and at Alec’s confused shake of his head, she’s pulling him by the elbow into one of the many corridors, leading him into her bedroom at a brisk pace.

He follows her of course, worry bubbling up inside him when he realizes she’s looking for privacy. It could mean a number of things, most of them bad, so instead he turns his eyes to her hand, carefully manicured with shiny burgundy nail polish, wrapped around his arm.

They used to be much more tactile as kids. He misses the casual greeting hugs, pats and nudges during training…

Isabelle closes the door behind them and Alec focuses back on the present.

“I just talked with mom and she was freaking out! At one point I think she cried??”

They share an incredulous look. Was Maryse Lightwood capable of that?

“We were talking about you,” she clarifies with a finger pointed at his chest, back to the point.

“What? Why?”

“She heard Inquisitor Herondale complain about your changes. Alec, what changes??”

“Oh no,” Alec slumps against the door with a groan. “I talked with Jace Herondale,” he explains, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I just told him to cut his unauthorized hunting trips. You know how he is, right?”

Alec glances back at his sister.

“I get it, Alec,” she nods. “Jace tends to act before thinking, we all know that.”

He snorts. “There’s no way of telling how this could all end. And then, Magnus Bane showed up, you know?”

His family is freaking out enough as it is, so he keeps the red string to himself. He just watches his sister carefully, still worried that she may somehow suspect.

“Oh, I heard about that!” Isabelle wiggles her eyebrows. “Saw the pictures. Is he as hot in person?”

“Uh,” he stammers.

"Nevermind, I bet he is. Next time when he shows up, let me know brother dearest. I would gladly take a night off to add a warlock to my lovers' list"

Alec doesn’t like that idea at all. “What if, uh, what if he’s seeing someone?”

His sister scoffs. “Alec! He’s a Downworlder! They don’t care,” she waves his concern off and gets back to the point. “I appreciate you trying to get firm control right from the start. That’s a great strategy, actually.”

Her smile and words lift him up.

“But, he’s a Herondale!”

And he’s back on solid ground.

“Mother’s angry with me,” he mutters to no one in particular. His mother is usually hard to please but to be on the receiving end of her wrath? That’s new for Alec.

He thinks back to Magnus, without meaning to, really. He did it for him, but will the warlock appreciate his efforts?

“We can fix this!”

He looks up, briefly distracted from his gloom, and follows her movements with his gaze as she’s pacing around the room.

“You’re right, Alec. You’re the new boss and you have to establish control. That’s perfectly reasonable. I can tell her this was all calculated to show that Lightwoods aren’t scared of Herondales, that you made an example of Jace exactly because he’s a Herondale. You’re sending a no-bullshit message, that you’re the new Head. This could work, yeah!”

He doesn’t say that he’s not doing any of it because Jace is a Herondale, but because a certain warlock asked him to. That would surely lead to uncomfortable questioning and he’s nowhere near ready for that.

 

 

\--

  


Magnus is just wrapping up with a client when he gets a fire message.

From Alec Lightwood.

No. Not Alec. Never Alec. Alexander.

Magnus excuses himself for a moment, takes a breath and reads the short text. It’s asking if he’s home and up for a visit.

He furrows his brows at the casual language, so unlike any Shadowhunter communications.

After a brief consideration he sends a fire message of his own.

That’s why he’s not surprised when an hour later, on the dot, there’s someone at his door.

Magnus isn’t sure what he’s expecting on the other side, but it definitely isn’t a Shadowhunter holding a bouquet of burgundy roses.

“Hi,” Alexander smiles and offers the flowers to the warlock. “These are for you.”

He starts at the gesture but quickly recovers, thinking how the young Lightwood certainly doesn’t waste time. “Hi, yourself,” he lifts the flowers up to smell them, keeping an eye on his guest. “Thank you, they’re lovely. Come in.”

The Shadowhunter enters in a few quick strides. Unbidden, thoughts about his dead soulmate flood Magnus, making him gasp in front of the other man. A little taller than his Alec, lacking his relaxed demeanor, he’s not so much taking the place in, as is scanning it for possible exits or advantages. Ever vigilant.

Magnus shows him to the sofa and they sit down; him splayed out like a cat, meanwhile the Shadowhunter’s back is hardly touching the cushions.

“Your home is impressive,” he comments, resting his palms flat on his thighs.

“Thank you,” Magnus waves his hand and a tea set appears on the low table in front of them, along with a tall crystal vase for the roses. “Would you like some tea? Or are you more of a whiskey type of a guy?” He asks with a playful wink, getting up briefly to put the flowers in water.

“No, tea’s fine. I’ve never liked alcohol much.”

The warlock hums in response, again, thinking back to how his Alec favored that sparkly orange monstrosity of his. Magnus shakes his head at that, trying to focus on the here and now. He takes his time pouring the tea into cups, enjoying how in the brief silence, the only sound is the soft splashing of warm liquid.

Without a word, he shows the Shadowhunter the sugar, honey and milk for him to pick himself, but as it turns out, Alexander Lightwood takes his tea plain.

He sits back down gracefully, considering where to start the conversation and save them the prolonged awkwardness, when he’s spared the trouble.

“I took care of Herondale,” Alexander says after a sip, his eyes fixed on his cup.

Right to the point.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Magnus raises his cup with a smile. “Didn’t expect you to be done so soon. Can I ask, what did you do?”

“I talked with him,” he shrugs.

“Come again?”

“I talked with him,” he repeats, now looking up at the warlock, so they are both staring at each other in open confusion. “But in case you have more trouble with him, let me know,” he smiles softly.

Magnus silences him with a raised finger. “You… talked with him?”

“Yes?”

“And?”

“And told him this behavior has to end.”

Magnus can’t stop a snort. “Ah. You talked with him. Herondale came to the Hotel and tortured the Head of the clan in front of a human, but you fixed all that with a stern conversation, have you?” He sets the cup back onto the table, still full, with too much force, spilling some of it on his fingers, but is too frustrated to care. “So he’s free to come and go, and threaten us as he pleases, you just… what? Hope for the best? Wait for us to tell you when one of your people is crossing a damn line again?!”

“I can’t exactly imprison him, he’s the grandson of the Great Inquisitor.”

“Yes you can. You’re the Head of the Institute, discipline of the Shadowhunters is part of your damn job!”

Even before the warlock’s finished, he watches as Lightwood shifts from defensive to… defeated? Almost in slow motion, the Shadowhunter is no longer facing him, but moves to stare at the table with his head down, his hair falling forward and masking his face.

Because of his frustration, it takes Magnus a moment to realize the possible meaning of this reaction to his angry tone.

“I’m sorry. I’m… I’m sorry,” Alexander repeats in the sudden ringing quiet. “I thought...”

“What?” Magnus asks softly. He feels like there’s too much going on at once, part of him feeling bad for the Shadowhunter when he’s looking back at him with that lost expression, part of him still remembering Raphael’s brutalized face. So he takes a slow, deep breath to calm down, taking the metaphorical step back. “What did you think, Alexander?” He’s going to put his reservations on hold, at least for a moment, to understand. He wants to understand, actually, and not only because the Universe decided it would be a great joke to tie a Shadowhunter to him with that string.

He can’t remember a time a Shadowhunter apologized to him for anything.

“You are my responsibility now.”

Magnus glances down to the red string that connects them, lifting his hand up. “Because of this, you mean?”

“Yes!”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” he almost laughs.

“That’s not,” Alexander shakes his head, then jumps up from the sofa and starts to pace back and forth behind it, wringing his hands together. “I’m not saying you can’t. We’re soulmates, so it’s my job...”

Magnus flinches. His mind goes blank as to how to respond to that. At this point he’s no longer sure if it’s the Shadowhunter’s true meaning behind his words, or just Magnus’ own perspective coloring the words so strongly.

He doesn’t care.

He just wants this conversation to be over.

He gulps and shuts his eyes briefly, gathering his strength because he knows there’s no way in hell it’s going to be over any time soon.

“No,” he says finally, standing up as well and startling the Shadowhunter with his sudden movement. “I am not your job. I’m not an obligation. I don’t want to be. I have no idea what you people think a soulmate is,” his mouth twists in scowl and he practically spits the words out: “but I promise you, it’s none of that!”

“What?”

“And you really think that,” he lifts his hand again, motioning to the string,”is gonna be enough for me to believe you’re safe for me to be around? That I should just throw four goddamn centuries of experience out the fucking window because you’re one Shadowhunter in a million?”

“What do you mean, safe? I’d never,” Alexander starts but stumbles over his words, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t… I love you!”

Magnus is gaping at him.

Love him?

“Alexander,” he lets out a tired sigh. All the anger leaves him, suddenly, and all he has left is deep sadness pressing in on his heart. “Why? What do you love about me?”

The Shadowhunter opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“What’s my favorite dish? Do I like coffee? Do I vote? Anything?”

Alexander is struck. “What?”

“I can’t tell you what you’re feeling. I don’t know that,” Magnus explains gently. “But whatever it is, it’s not for me. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. We barely met.”

“But you’re my soulmate. We’re soulmates! I read about you, I know…”

“You read about me? You mean the reports at the Institute?” Magnus raises his eyebrow.

Alexander nods.

“What did they tell you about me? Hmm? I’ve read some of those reports, you know. It’s what Shadowhunters think of me. That’s the person you love? Really? Myself, I hate that garbage of a caricature,” he shakes his head in resignation. “You’ve been spoon-fed the propaganda and you have no idea who I am.”

He crumbles back down onto his chair, mindful of the Shadowhunter’s scrutiny and undivided attention and partially - because if it.

Let him see, he thinks, and proceeds to stare at the ceiling.

The young Lightwood stays silent and Magnus glances his way after a moment. He’s not even looking at him, too preoccupied with whatever storm is going on in his mind, and Magnus has no doubt there is in fact a storm brewing there, if Alexander’s furrowed brows and slightly parted lips are anything to go by.

He’s glad to see it though.

That look of utter concentration brings back the warlock’s hope.

Eventually, Alexander seems to come back to the present and his gaze wanders to Magnus, who’s in turn watching him as well, waiting.

“I was doing it all for you,” the Shadowhunter admits in a soft tone.

“I know,” Magnus agrees readily. “And that’s the problem. Would you have done anything about Herondale if somebody else came to you with this? If I wasn’t your soulmate? Would you care?”

Alexander doesn’t say anything but the answer is still painfully obvious on his face.

“Going after a man that brutalized my friend is a decent thing to do, not some romantic gesture, or whatever else you thought you were doing.”

“I think,” the Shadowhunter starts, his brows furrowed again and hands clasped tightly in front, fingers twisting one after another. “I need some time to think? Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Magnus offers him a soft, genuine smile.

“Would it be alright if I came by… another time?”

“Sure.”

 

 

\--

  


It’s been a relatively normal few days at the Institute; regular patrols went out and came back, a few lower level demon hunts, and blessedly no visits or calls from Idris. Still, Alec is on edge.

The whispers and glances seem to follow him, and at this point, he can’t be sure if it’s only because he’s the boss and people act like that with every Head of the Institute, or if it’s something specific about him that bothers people so much. Granted, he hasn’t done much in terms of winning friends and allies, he couldn’t even do right by his soulmate; but on the plus side, there’s been no mundane or Shadowhunter casualties since he took office.

There’s a few missing werewolves but reports he’s getting all point out to them just leaving the pack without a word and moving onto someplace else. People do that. He wouldn’t, and none of the Shadowhunters under his command would either but... yes, people do that.

But then...

Magnus’ words are bouncing in his head, making him question that certainty.

What does he actually know?

He’s been raised in Idris, all his tutors were Shadowhunters, obviously.

He goes to his office, on an impulse, just to prove to himself that he’s not as sheltered as the warlock thinks he is. He skims all the books he has there, in the old cabinet – records, mostly. History, some strategy, a few of the more dusty tomes of high Shadowhunter literature. Not exactly his own personal library, more like a generic Head of the Institute library, but still, he looks through it.

He knows the titles. There was no need to read them here but he’s read most of them back in Idris, as part of his education. He knows all these are Shadowhunter sources.

There’s not a single book here that hasn’t been edited by a Shadowhunter, no matter the topic.

Alec has an urge to go to Magnus and see his library, but stomps on that feeling quickly. He doesn’t think he’s be welcome there, not so soon. So instead, he looks for the next best thing: his records. The ones he just went through.

Now that he pays attention, he’s momentarily taken aback by the resources he has as the Head, and the possibility of using them. There’s a database of every Downworlder-owned shop, bar and any other establishment. Among them, there’s a club Magnus Bane owns listed, and Alec lets himself read through the details, curious about his soulmate. Description is dry, factual but Alec can’t shake the wrongness. He moves on to look for what he actually needs: Downworlder bookstores.

The next time he visits Magnus’ loft, Alec is adamant to do better.

Time flies and before he knows it, there’s a knock on his door – the final briefing of the day is about to start.

He rushes though it with the night shift and patrols, eager to leave and head to the address he’s saved. He’s mentally ticking off the points he has to make, until there’s nothing left.

“...that was good work, everybody,” he comments, as usual. He makes a point to compliment his people, not just berate them when they mess up. He is about to say something along the lines of ‘dismissed’ but pauses. Glancing away from all the Shadowhunters, he thinks maybe there’s something else.

“Actually, one more thing. I’d just like to put it out there: I’m gay. That’s it for today, goodnight.”

He lets out a soft breath after saying that, feeling a little lighter now that it’s no longer a secret. With a last look over the small stunned crowd, he turns on his heel and marches out to the bookstore, leaving everybody to process the news.

 

 

\--

  


‘Lornette’ is a small book shop tucked away in one of the back alleys, away from any of the main roads. Only people who know what to look for know to come this way, just like the owner intended. That’s the first line of protection. The second is a sanctuary spell put on the building and part of the alley; it shimmers when people enter and it keeps the book keeper safe, including a glamour, on a rare occasion when any unsuspecting mortals wander through his doors not expecting green skin and red horns.

“Well,” Lorne looks Alec up and down quickly, openly appreciating the figure but still wary, knowing full well what the marks on his skin mean. “You must be the first Shadowhunter to pay me a visit. Are you lost?”

“No. I, uh,” he stammers. “I’m looking for books on... Downworlder history? Sociopolitical, or just anything non fiction? Maybe you could recommend some?”

Lorne smiles patiently at how flustered and out of his depth the other man is. He can see it, the confusion is practically leaking out of his aura. “I’m sorry, I don’t carry any… Shadowhunter approved materials.”

“That’s alright. It’s not what I need now,” Alec responds, making the shopkeeper's eyebrows jump up.

“In that case,” he says, head tilted in contemplation. “Follow me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> please do not worry - malec is gonna make it


End file.
